Holiday Hitches
by Jubileyn
Summary: ONESHOT. Hermione Granger was never known to hate Christmas, but apparantly there is something about this Christmas that is preventing her from relaxing. And Ron Weasley intends to find out what it is. RHr


A/N: School's going great, so I have some free time. It's close enough to Christmas, and I just couldn't wait any longer! So here is the story. I hope you enjoy. So MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! (...eighteen days early) D

(oh, and I have an account on DeviantArt where you can look at my drawings if you wish (there are three so far!! More will come when my scanner is fixed))

**Holiday Hitches**

As the holidays drew nearer, the Gryffindors grew more and more rowdy and excited. In the last Potions class, the Slytherins were nearly beside themselves with glee over how many points Professor Snape took from Gryffindor for noise. The Great Hall was decorated with its' usual Christmas trees, courtesy of Hagrid, and everyone seemed in lively spirits. No one felt much like doing any homework or studying; all thoughts were on presents, family, and for those staying at Hogwarts over the holiday, the glorious Christmas feast.

Hermione, of course, was the only one putting much effort into schoolwork, which was certainly normal, but she was more avid than ever. She looked slightly batty, running around the school, hidden behind all her books, quill tucked in the messy curls of her hair. Harry and Ron had done their best attempts at getting her to lighten up, even Ginny had tried, but there was simply nothing that would work, aside from starting a conversation on schoolwork (and they weren't that desperate just yet). Her mood was sour and she was harping on them even more than usual. Sometimes Ron wished he knew the Silencio charm a little better, just so he could use it on her.

She wouldn't even come with them for the weekend-before-Christmas trip to Hogsmeade. She had waved off Ron's invitation to his great annoyance, actually. It had taken quite a lot to get him to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him. Even if he had hastily added a "and Harry, too!" when he lost his nerve.

"She's barking," Ron muttered to Harry, looking back at the tiny castle, as though he could see her. "Honestly, taking a break never killed anyone."

Harry looked thoughtful. "She's awfully touchy lately. Ginny said," Harry said, cheeks reddening (or was it the cold?), "that she was even snapping at her. That doesn't happen often."

"No, it doesn't," Ron said pensively. "'Wonder what's bothering her."

Harry shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it, _apparently_." He rolled his eyes and Ron forced a laugh.

"Let's get a butterbeer," Ron said hurriedly, eager to get the subject on anything but Hermione.

"Let's," Harry said, nodding.

They both entered The Three Broomsticks, leaving all thoughts of Hermione and the cold at the door. Harry fetched the drinks from Madame Rosmerta, and soon Ron had a piping hot bottle of butterbeer in his hand. He could feel the chill leaving his body and shivered in the astonishing warmth emanating from the sip he took. In no time at all, their butterbeers were gone.

They bravely stumbled back out into the frosty snow. Ron and Harry went to Zonko's and Honeyduke's, even pausing for a moment at Gladrag's before heading back up the street.

"Ron! Harry!" a grateful voice cried. They turned slowly to see Ginny coming up behind them, Luna by her side. "How are you both? Cold, isn't it?" Ron looked at her strangely. "Anyway, Luna and I have just been talking about you, Ron," Ginny said cheerfully, but her smile, Ron could see now, was strained.

"Harry, I have to talk to Ron about something. I'll be right back," Ginny said, leaving Luna to chat idly with Harry. She yanked Ron to the entrance of Scrivenshaft's.

"What?"

"What? Oh, nothing, I just had to shake her off for a bit. She's such a dear, but she hardly ever stops talking about _The Quibbler_ when I'm with her. I can only listen to the top ten best issues so many times. She drives Hermione barmy. Good thing she's not here."

"Yeah," Ron said quietly.

"Oh, you're not still sulking about her staying at the castle are you?" Ginny asked incredulously, though she was grinning. "Worried she prefers _Hogwarts: A History_ over you?"

"Oh, stuff it, you," Ron said.

Ginny smiled. "Oh, I can hardly wait for Christmas," she sighed blissfully.

Ron coughed unnecessarily. "What do you suppose she wants for Christmas?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny said absently, glancing around at all the shops in awe. "I'm sure anything you give Hermione she'll love."

Ron turned a lovely shade of scarlet, a perfect match for the baubles hanging on the windows of Zonko's. "Yeah, right," he said, secretly pleased as he scuffed the tip of his shoe on the snow.

"Well, just take care to _remember_, won't you?" Ginny said. "As if you could forget," she added saucily before skipping back off towards where she had left Luna. Harry appeared a few moments later.

"Boy, can she talk," Harry mumbled. Ron smiled in spite of himself.

"Come on, let's go inside for a minute," Ron urged.

"_Scrivenshaft's_?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"To warm up, you dolt," Ron lied. So they entered the shop. It had a musty smell of old books, faded parchment, and fresh ink. Hermione's paradise. He left Harry at the door and skimmed the shelves, pausing at particularly humorous titles like, _What To Do If You Turn Your Mother-In-Law Into A Rabbit Over Breakfast_. He looked past the Potions books, sniffing disdainfully.

He then saw the most extravagant quill he had _ever_ seen. In fact, the only other one like it belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart. He remembered Hermione's beaming face when he had whipped that out. But what was more interesting was what was beneath it. Under the quill, on a wooden stand, sat a new book entitled _An Expert's Guide To Advanced Arithmancy_. Seeing it as a sign, he purchased both.

Harry noted the book and quill in Ron's hand but said nothing. "Shall we go then?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah, let's go back to the castle." They left Hogsmeade and walked back, talking seldom because the snow picked up, the wind barreling it into their faces. When they were safe with in the wooden doors of Hogwarts, it was Harry who spoke first.

"You'd better hide that book. You don't want Hermione to see it."

"How do you know it's for her?" Ron asked quickly.

"Oh, come off it. _An Expert's Guide to Advanced Arithmancy_? I'm not that thick, mate."

"Fine," Ron said, stuffing Hermione's book and quill into his Honeyduke's bag.

The rest of the weekend past without incident. Ron evaded Hermione all of Sunday, which wasn't hard as she spent the whole day in the library. He almost forgot all about her from all the excitement circulating through the tower.

Then, on Christmas Eve, she was doing homework. _Homework. On Christmas_. Which is exactly what Ron pointed out.

"Honestly, it's not going to get done by itself," she said waspishly, flipping through her loose notes for Ancient Runes.

"Hermione, just because it's Christmas doesn't mean you have to work yourself to death. You _are_ allowed to have a break."

"Oh, Christmas isn't an excuse for laziness."

"That's not what I--"

"And if I were fooling around like you, who would do it?" He detected an unusual coldness in her voice. One that had never been there before.

"Blimey, Hermione. What's wrong with you? You alright?" he asked, somewhat shocked. She immediately looked upset.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap." She avoided him in the eye.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm _fine_," she said crossly, gathering her books and things into her bag.

"Hermione..." He caught her hand to stop her from leaving.

Her eyes were wet, her expression fearful. Ron was worried now; she had rarely ever been this open before, at least not where others could see. And certainly not in the middle of the common room. "For heaven's sake, will you just leave me alone?" She snatched her hand back and without another word, she fled up the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the nearly empty common room.

"Merlin, what'd you _do_?" Harry asked in awed amusement.

"Nothing. That's the problem," Ron said, slumping in a chair, sighing loudly as he ran his hand loosely through his hair.

"Well, whatever 'nothing' is, I expect she'll be in a right state tomorrow. Nice job, Ron," Harry groaned. It wasn't really an accusatory tone Harry had used, but Ron was still somewhat offended.

"No, really. I didn't do _anything_. Where's Ginny?" Ron asked, hoping to find her and explain himself before Hermione did.

"Ron Weasley, what the _hell_ did you do?!"

Ron massaged his forehead as Ginny descended the stairs, looking both angry and concerned.

"There's your answer," Harry said dryly, but not loudly enough for Ginny to hear.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Then why, pray tell, is Hermione up in the dorm with her curtains shut? The only words I got out of her were 'Leave me alone', 'Go away', 'I don't want to talk about it', and 'Ron'. Care to share?"

"I just told her she ought to take a break from all her homework, as it's Christmas. And she snapped at me. I asked her what was wrong and she looked like she was going to cry," he said, squirming awkwardly. "Then she got sort of angry and left. That's _all_."

"Wow," said Harry. Ginny and Ron both turned to look at him. He went on, grinning, "You two can literally fight over _nothing_."

"Honestly, Harry, it's not funny," Ginny said in an exasperated tone, but she was smiling at him. Harry felt strange again.

Ron wondered how he was going to get himself out of this one. Instead of having Hermione come back down to retrieve her things and start another row, Ron said, " Ginny, could you take Hermione's bag up to her? She left it down here."

Ginny must have mistook Ron's cowardliness for true gentlemanly behavior, because she looked shocked for a moment. Then she beamed at him. "Of course I can." And she picked up the books and went back upstairs.

Ginny entered the dorm quietly. Hermione was curled up on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, her head resting on them.

"Hermione?" The girl turned and sighed, but did not looked too irritated by the intrusion of privacy.

"I said leave me--"

"Alone. I know. I have you stuff for you." Ginny held out the bag towards Hermione. "Ron sent me to give it to you."

"Okay," she said softly. Hermione looked very small in the large bed, especially when she was sitting like that, and her voice was just as small. "Ron sent you," she murmured rhetorically. Ron. She hoped he wasn't too angry at her.

"Yes, _Ron_ sent me," Ginny said, her sharp ears picking up what Hermione had whispered so quietly. "He actually asked me to bring it up here for you. You know, he's really worried about you. You might want to explain to him what's going on with you. As it is, he's downstairs being miserable because you are." Then in light of Hermione's distressed expression, she added, on a happier note, "Let's try to make this a good Christmas, shall we?"

"Yes." She pulled back the curtains a bit more and glanced up at Ginny apologetically. "Sorry, Ginny."

"It's alright." She shrugged. "But he's not." Ginny left the room.

---

Hermione sat on a stone bench watching the snow fall slowly (the wind had slowed down), tissue in hand. She didn't really remember how she had gotten outside, but she felt more at peace out here among the beautiful cold. Even though she was far from content. She hadn't even realized she was crying until she felt drops fall on her hand. And they hadn't stopped yet.

_crunch_

Hermione heard the footsteps coming closer. She wondered why she hadn't heard them sooner, but then she figured that the wind had probably muffled them. After all, you can't Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds. Her hand moved ever so slowly, casually resting on her wand.

"Hermione?"

She whipped around, wand pointed directly in Ron's face.

"Ron," she said wearily, sniffing. "I was about to hex you! Don't do that."

"Sorry. I saw you from the window and wanted to check on you." He had been looking for her. "It's really late and you should... hey, you're crying."

"Yeah," she said shakily, forcing a laugh. It sounded harsh and unnatural. Ron looked and felt rather uncomfortable.

"So, what's the matter?"

"Oh, _everything_. I just... oh, you don't need to hear this..."

"Sure, I do. Go on," he said, taking a seat beside her. She hesitated until he asked again, "What's wrong?"

"Well, I don't know." She took a deep breath and wiped away her tears roughly. "It's just that every time I feel happy, I instantly feel awful because V- well, Voldemort's killing people, and her I am, thinking about foolish things like buying presents and..." She paused, blushing. "Oh, I don't know. It just feels so _wrong_." A few more tears found their way down her glistening pink cheeks.

He thought just _maybe_ he could chance it while she was distracted. Slowly and carefully, he snaked his arm up over her shoulder and scooted closer, ever so slightly. If Hermione noticed, she didn't seem to care; she was far too distraught. She wrapped her arms around him and let him hold her. For about a minute. Then she began to realize the gravity of the compromising situation she had just put herself in.

She backed away awkwardly. Even in the dark, he could tell she was blushing something fierce. "And then," she cleared her throat, "I feel bad because I'm not supposed to think about silly things like... love," she said the word so quickly he almost didn't catch it, "while people are dying. I mean, do you?"

Ron pondered for a moment. Why was she asking him a question like this? Surely, she didn't feel... because obviously, she couldn't... but why would she bother to if she didn't... And something clicked in Ron's mind. And for the first time since he had ever spoken to Hermione, he knew _exactly_ what to say.

"Yes, I do."

"Really?" she breathed.

"All the time."

The proximity between their hands was so close that Ron could feel the warmth of her hand without even touching it. And when she grabbed his, he felt a jolt of electricity rip through him.

Very quickly, she came forward and planted on his mouth a kiss.

"Hermione..."

He leaned closer, so close he could count every eyelash if he wanted to and every one of the few freckles she had. He saw her eyes close, felt her breathing become ragged and felt, while his ears turned red, her chest rising and falling against his own. Then he kissed her. And it was perfect.

"Ron... I... wow... um..."

"Yeah."

She peered up at him shyly, blushing enough to match her scarf. They both looked at the ground.

"Hermione," he said gently.

She immediately looked up at him. "Yes?"

"I think it's okay for you to be happy. The people he killed wouldn't want you to be lost in your grief over them and forget to live. Christmas kind of gives us a reason, don't you think? So just feel... however you want to feel Hermione. And as for love..." He glanced at her, feeling, somehow, unsure of himself.

She smiled at him, the first genuine smile he had seen on her in weeks. "Well..." he trailed off, happier with the way she was looking at him than he was likely to admit.

The clock chimed twelve.

"Merry Christmas."

---

The End

---

Oh, doesn't that just warm your heart like a cup of cocoa on a freezing winter night? One thing that Dumbledore and I actually have in common.

Merry Christmas to all and God bless you over the holidays!

--Christen


End file.
